


A Matter of the Heart

by Yavannie



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Awkward Conversations, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Prompt Fic, Teen Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-12-11 15:37:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11717340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yavannie/pseuds/Yavannie
Summary: As prompted byRaptorlily. When Ethel has an unrequited crush on Jughead, he asks Betty for help.





	A Matter of the Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Raptorlily](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raptorlily/gifts).



> Thank you for the prompt, Raptorlily! I know this was filled already, but eh ;D Not betaed.

Jughead has always liked Ethel. Maybe, if he hadn’t been such an insistent loner, and if she hadn’t been such an insufferable optimist, they would have become good friends. Plus, he suspects they both feel as though a friendship would have solidified their roles as outsiders. Weirdos, after all, gravitate towards each other. Now, they have something akin to a mutual understanding. They might share a knowing look when a teacher makes an ignorant comment, or a supportive glance when Cheryl or Reggie start dishing out unsolicited comments about physical appearances.

So. He has always liked Ethel, which is why, when she starts crushing on him, he’s honestly, truly concerned. It all begins one gloomy February day.

“Hey Juggie,” says Ethel, sliding into the seat opposite him at the cafeteria.

“Hey,” he replies, moving his tray a little to make space.

She unwraps her homemade sandwich, and for a while they eat in silence. “How’s the novel coming along?” she asks then.

He shrugs. “Ah, you know. One word at a time.”

“The offer still stands.”

“It’s still a bit too fragmented,” he says evasively. She has offered to proofread his writing on more than one occasion, but Jughead has less than fond memories of her ripping into one of his short stories for Creative Writing.

Ethel crumples the wrapper up into a ball, then picks at a nail, chipping some nail polish off. Some unspoken question hangs in the air until Jughead feels almost uncomfortable. “So…” she says finally. “Betty and I are going roller skating tomorrow after she finishes cheer practice. Want to come?”

Jughead stares at her. “Roller skating?” he repeats.

“Yeah?” she says uncertainly.

He looks around pointedly, as if to check if she’s talking to someone else, then back at Ethel. “Are you asking me, Jughead Jones, if I want to go _roller skating_? Have you ever seen me engage in any form of physical activity that didn’t involve coach Clayton staring directly at me, or running away from Reggie Mantle?” He narrows his eyes. “Ethel Muggs, have you been smoking something?”

“Point taken,” she says, holding her hands up. “I just thought I’d ask, that’s all.”

 

* * *

 

 

The second hint comes a few days later, when Ethel catches him up as he’s crossing the parking lot after school.

“Give me a ride home?” she asks, glancing up at the clouds. They look suitably ominous, promising sleet within the next few minutes.

“Sure,” he agrees, leading the way to his dad’s old truck.

Ethel lives about halfway between school and Southside, and once he’s pulled up outside her house, she hesitates before getting out.

“Are you going to Veronica’s party on Friday?” she asks.

“I’m washing my hair,” he quips. Archie has also asked him, likely out of polite but misguided habit.

“Everyone’s going. Archie, Betty…”

“Yeah, unless one of them is a professional hairdresser, my hair’s not going to get any cleaner.”

“It’ll be fun,” she says encouragingly.

“I’m surprised _you’re_ going,” he says, turning the spotlight on Ethel instead. “I thought the likes of you and I were above all that.”

She smiles. “Well at least I tried.”

Something about what she says, the way she walks off, arms crossed and shoulders hunched, makes him frown and wonder if maybe, possibly… But surely, no. Not him. Not _Jughead_.

 

* * *

 

Third time’s the painfully obvious charm. Ethel leans up against the locker next to Jughead’s, a determined look in her eyes.

“Do you have a date for Valentine’s?” she asks.

He draws a breath, ready to launch into a monologue about how it’s a distasteful, depressing, commercialized travesty, every part of it (not least the fact that Pop’s is always fully booked) a man-made disaster of the highest order, but then he _realizes_. He puts the pieces together; the party, the roller skating, the ride, and as baffling as it all seems, he accepts it for what it is. For the briefest of seconds he even considers it.

Ethel. Sweet, copper-haired Ethel with her beautiful eyes and her secret smile. Ethel, who owns as many skirts as he does jeans, but who is much better at masking her meager wardrobe with hairbands and blouses in different combinations. Ethel, who is honest and funny and who can make him snort and sometimes, God forbid, even smile.

Yes, Jughead likes Ethel. Has _always_ liked Ethel. But not in that way.

“I’m working,” he says. It’s not even a lie, and for that he is infinitely grateful.

“Okay,” she says simply, turns on her heel, and walks off.

 

* * *

 

The position he finds himself in is one without precedent, and doubly so. He had never imagined that anything to do with romance would ever leave him tongue-tied. On the contrary, he’s usually at his most talkative whenever given the chance to voice his opinion on the detested L-word. This is different though, because A) this isn’t a purely academical reflection on a to Jughead inexplicable emotion, B) he’s the subject of said inexplicable emotion, and C) he really hates the thought of hurting Ethel’s feelings. Thus, he turns to the one person in his vicinity with the proper experience, the practical know-how and the social skills to handle such matters.

“Why are you telling me this,” asks Archie flatly, a clump of cream dangling from the straw he has used to stir his milkshake with.

“Because I need advice,” says Jughead desperately. “I don’t want to upset her. I don’t want things to get _awkward_.”

Archie grabs a fry from the tray, dunks it in milkshake and chews it thoughtfully. “You should probably talk to Betty about this,” he says.

 

* * *

 

Jughead looks up at Betty’s window. There’s a warm, inviting light coming from behind the sheer curtains, and yet he hesitates. It’s been a couple of years since he was last here, and there are multiple reasons for that. One of the more prominent ones is Alice Cooper’s metamorphosis from brownie-baking wonder-mom into actual praying mantis once her daughters started hitting puberty. He glances at the front door and shudders. Thankfully, someone (read: Jason Blossom) has left a ladder in a handy spot.

“Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair,” he says as Betty slides the window open. She looks fresh from the shower in pyjama pants and a strappy top. His eyes linger on her shoulder as he notes that she’s not wearing a bra, and the thought sends a little thrill down his spine before he forces himself to look away.

“Evidently you’re not in need of a golden stair,” she says, standing aside to let him climb in. “What’s going on?”

“It’s, uh, a matter of the heart actually.”

“I see,” says Betty warily. She fiddles with the drawstring on her pants, then motions at the bed. “Wanna sit?”

He sinks down gingerly on her bed; the covers are light and clean, and he’s not entirely sure where his butt has been in the last few hours. Betty looks strangely tense, and he thinks maybe he’s interrupted something. Best get it over with then.

“It’s Ethel,” he says. “I think… No, I’m pretty _sure_ actually, that she, you know….” Betty nods slowly, urging him to go on. “Likes me?”

“Uh-huh,” she says, still nodding. “How’d you… I mean, what did she…?”

“She asked me to go on a _date_ with her.”

Betty’s eyebrows fly up. “Oh!”

“On _Valentine’s_ Day.”

“ _Oh_. And you said…?”

“That I’m working.” He holds up a hand. “Which, by the way, I am.”

Betty shifts a little and tucks an stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Okay, but what I’m asking is, how do _you_ feel about it?”

So he tells her, and as he talks, her shoulders sink, and her face breaks into a smile, as though she’s utterly endeared by Jughead’s struggle. If it wasn’t for the fact that he is desperate for her help, he might have been tempted to get in a mood about it.

“I’ll talk to her,” she promises once he’s finished.

“Thank you,” he says sincerely, his chest suddenly five times lighter.

“I have to ask, though,” she says, just as he’s getting up from the bed.

He pauses. “Yeah?”

Betty’s eyes search his, and he can feel his heart beating a little faster. “Is there someone else…?”

Jughead looks at her. Betty. Beautiful, beatific Betty, who picked the grit out of his wound with tweezers when they were nine and he fell off his bike and scraped his knee. Betty, who was the only one to endure the full one hundred and forty minutes of _Dersu Uzala_ when it was his turn to pick the flick for movie night. Betty, who has always been, and will continue to be, the girl he compares any other girl to.

He shrugs and shakes his head. “No.”

 

* * *

 

The feeling in his belly when, the next day, Ethel comes up to him as he’s playing the pinball game in the common room is nothing short of absolute horror.

“Hey,” he says, glancing at her before turning back to the game, palms already cold with sweat. As he presses the buttons, more or less at random, he contemplates his life choices. Talking to Betty, talking to Archie, deciding to turn up to his first day at Riverdale High; these are all things he could have _not_ done to avoid the situation that he’s now in.

“Jughead, you great big dork,” says Ethel cheerfully.

His fingers slip, and the ball rolls down into the out hole, prompting a sad little tune to play from the machine. “What?” he says, barely daring to look at her.

She rolls her eyes. “It’s really cute that you flatter yourself and all, but I wasn’t asking for myself.”

“Huh?”

Ethel nods pointedly to the sofas, and he follows her gaze to where Betty is sitting. She’s fiddling nervously with her ponytail, and for a brief second, their eyes meet. Betty smiles uncertainly. Automatically, Jughead smiles back. Then he turns to Ethel.

“Yeah,” she says.

And slowly, _slowly_ , it dawns on him. “Oh,” he says. “ _Oh_.”


End file.
